


Into the Deep and Dark Spaces of the Mind

by WantsUnicorns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Archaeology, Feelings, HP: EWE, Lighthouses, Lovecraftian, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Memory Loss, Monsters, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantsUnicorns/pseuds/WantsUnicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first the lone lighthouse on the cliffs seems like the perfect spot to get away from it all. But when an old enemy appears, Harry realises that things might not be quite what they seemed.</p><p><b>Career Choices:</b> Harry: Unspeakable; Draco: Archaeologist</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Deep and Dark Spaces of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> For [Prompt # 2](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/74208.html?thread=3488480#t3488480).
> 
> Thank you kindly to my fantastic betas K and M you’ve both done amazing work on short notice. Thank you! <3 Also thanks to Minty for letting me brainstorm with her.
> 
> And to my prompter: I really hope you enjoy this. I saw archaeologist and vacation and had to have it.
> 
> I would also like to thank the mods and especially Phoenixacid for being so kind and understanding when RL decided I wasn't supposed to finish this on time. <3

“Have a seat Mr Potter.”

“Thank you.”

“So, have you come up with an answer to the questions we discussed during our last session?”

“Yes, I think so, at least to one of them.” Harry took a deep breath before continuing, “I want to know why,” he swallowed before going on, “I want to know why I don’t remember anything.”

“Alright. Please lie back, close your eyes and breathe in and out very slowly.”

Harry let himself sink into the plush armchair and closed his eyes. He felt his limbs getting heavier and heavier with every breath he took.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s begin.” There was the gentle touch of a wand against his temple and then faded images appeared slowly coming into focus. “Now, tell me what you see.”

“I see…”

~~

The thunder of the swell was a constant background noise as the water crashed against the cliffs with a mindless determination. Harry breathed in the salty air, turning his face into the wind where the cold rain stung his face. He felt lighter than he had in months. Looking back at the path he had cut through the thigh-high grass, as he had approached the cliff, from where he had touched down with his Firebolt, he saw a lighthouse loom in the distance. Even further back a village cast a warm glow in the early evening light.

Uncaring of the cold and unwilling to cast a warming spell, Harry set down his suitcase and lay down on his back, his head just hanging over the cliff. He watched the seagulls turn and dart across the darkening sky their shapes a stark contrast to the heavy clouds leaden with the promise of more rain to come.

He didn’t know how long he stayed where he was. Eventually the cold and the approaching thunder convinced him to seek shelter. By the time he made his way to the lighthouse, his limbs were stiff with the cold and he had trouble walking without a limp. When he finally reached the tall round structure in front of him and unlocked the door, his heart began to beat faster in anticipation. It would be the work of a moment to light a fire and heat some water for a nice cuppa.

The confirmation letter he had received had stated that he would find the key underneath the smallest flowerpot on the right. The darkness and the numbness of his fingers made finding the key a challenging enterprise but eventually he succeeded in freeing the small metal object. When Harry twisted the key, the lock was stiff from rare use. It took a bit of jiggling and finally it unlocked with a click loud enough to be heard over the sounds of nature.

Harry ran his hand along the doorframe, enjoying the rough texture as he stepped over the threshold. Inside the lighthouse was dark and quieter than he had anticipated. The sound of the wind was almost inaudible. Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Harry saw a card and a bottle of something or other standing in the middle of a rickety table. A quickly cast Lumos revealed the bottle to be a cheap brand of firewhiskey and the note written by the previous owners, wishing him luck.

Looking around in the dim light of the Lumos, with the storm beginning to rage outside, Harry finally spotted the fireplace. As he approached the hearth lit itself with a loud whoosh, slowly filling the space with warmth and light. Harry slid his wand back into the sheath attached to his wrist and pulled an old armchair closer to the flames, stretching his feet as close to it as possible. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

The next morning dawned bright and cold; the wind weaving through the vast grasslands surrounding the lighthouse. Harry stretched and yawned, his muscles shifting and his joints cracking. He really should have known better than to fall asleep in an old armchair, but even the fact that he would probably feel it all day couldn’t dim his smile. He was finally here.

At first he had been angry when the Ministry had forced him to take all of his vacation time. It wasn’t like he had made an effort to work himself into the ground, his work was his life. Apparently the ministry saw a problem with Unspeakables who hadn’t taken a single sick day and even tried to show up on Christmas and New Years. So they had granted him a leave of absence for three months, telling him to quote sort out his priorities unquote. As much as Harry loved his two best friends together and as much as he didn’t mind having Hermione as his boss, having her quote his other best friend at him wasn’t what he had expected of them spending their lives together. Adding to that, if Hermione hadn’t been his boss, she wouldn’t have known to wait for him trying to sneak in on his first day off and revoking his security clearance just to make sure he wouldn’t be able to come back.

Harry had sulked around the fountain in the Atrium for a bit, not quite knowing what to do with himself, when he had overheard two clerks from properties talking about an old place by the coast that while in perfect condition and not exactly cheap was impossible to sell. One of them whined about how his bonus was attached to selling off that property adding that he hadn’t received one in over five years.

Harry had been intrigued despite himself and listened in more closely. When the wizard who had complained conjured an image of a lighthouse by a windswept cliff, to show to his co-worker, Harry had been enchanted. One of the reasons he found it so difficult to take his vacation days was because the first few times he had gone on vacation he had ended up constantly surrounded by his _biggest fans_. _Would you sign this please, I’m your biggest fan, can I take a photo of you holding my baby/dog/this random thing I totally want to have on a picture with you, marry me, have sex with me, I want to have your babies_. 

Harry didn’t want to be harassed, asked about what it felt like to kill Voldemort or why he hadn’t married his childhood sweetheart. The latter would have become clear if they had looked into the fact that Ginny had realised she was as much into men as women and was much happier with Luna living in what Muggles would probably call a “hippie Lesbian Commune”, so it wasn’t so much about him not marrying her, but rather about her not marrying him.

When Harry saw the two clerks were about to leave, he called them back, a vague idea forming in the back of his mind.

~~

Harry changed into a pair of comfortable trouser and put on an old worn jumper that was about two sizes too large. He stood by the door, looking along the meadows and over the cliffs down towards the sea. This place was perfect he decided, glad of his impulsive decision to buy the property.

After a cup of coffee and a scone with clotted cream, Harry decided that it was time to have a proper look around the inside, now that he wasn’t tired from hours of flying. For some reason the lighthouse was in what the Ministry called a “no Apparition Zone” and despite being an Unspeakable, Harry didn’t know why some regions that weren’t under any kind of protective spells, like Hogwarts, were still impossible destinations.

One of the reasons he found this place so attractive was that the chance of wizards showing up and haunting him here were close to nil, because the effort it took to fly all the way up here had been immense, even for him.

Filled with new fervour, Harry gripped his wand and began cleaning the lighthouse. He banished year-old layers of dust, evicted several dozens spiders and one very startled toad from underneath an old sofa. All in all it was a very productive morning. Harry took his break out on the steps, enjoying the few rays of sun that broke through the cloud cover and inhaling the salty wind that tousled his hair. He ate the last of the sandwiches he had left over from the day before. The bread was stale and the cheese a bit chewy, but Harry didn’t mind. He would go into the village later on to buy supplies and treat himself to dinner, he decided.

In the late afternoon Harry had discovered what could only be the master bedroom. The heavy chest in the corner creaked ominously when Harry opened it. It was at the foot of a large four-poster bed that seemed a bit out of place in a lighthouse, the thing even had drapes and Harry was reminded of his bed at Hogwarts. Like with many other wizarding buildings while the ground floor of the lighthouse was the actual size it should have been, the rest of the lighthouse was much larger on the inside than the outside. Despite having lived in the wizarding world for most of his life, Harry still hadn’t grown numb to its wonders.

The chest contained what appeared to be old linen and strangely enough fishing equipment. His arm full of fabric Harry looked around himself and decided to deposit the entire load on the wicker chair by the old wardrobe in the corner. He dug through the fishing equipment, cursing when he cut himself on a fish-hook. Having had enough of battling fishing line and hazardous spikes, he used his wand to levitate the whole bundle to the window and let it drop to the grass outside. He would take care of it later. He stuck his injured forefinger into his mouth to stop the bleeding and went back to the chest. It was just large enough to keep his suitcase in until he needed it again. Or so he thought. The chest looked a lot larger from the outside than it seemed to be, because the suitcase wouldn’t fit.

Harry leant forward and knocked against the sides and the bottom of the chest, the latter producing a hollow sound that suggested an empty space beneath the boards. Harry discovered the hidden compartment quite by accident, running his hands along the floor of the chest, trying to find out how to lift the fake bottom. Harry touched two opposing corners of the floor and with a click it split open, both halves fitting snugly against the inner walls of the chest. The space revealed was filled with a thick stack of yellowed pages, some of them held together in parcels by string, others loose and fluttering to the floor when Harry carefully lifted the parcels out. At the very bottom there were several large half rolled up sheets. He chose one and it unfolded when he lifted it out, depositing a generous helping of dust and sand on his lap, but Harry didn’t even notice.

It was a map; A map of the coastline, of the lands surrounding the lighthouse and the nearby village. It also showed an island just off the cliff, which Harry hadn’t notice last night, when he had arrived. Maybe it had been further out than the map suggested. Between the cliffs and the island there were drawings of some kind of fairytale creatures, with a lot of tentacles, more legs than seemed natural and long necks. The artist had taken great care to draw in many grotesque details even going so far as to colour their eyes a deep dark red. Harry shuddered at the images. It must be a very old map he reasoned, remembering one of his Muggle teachers telling him about how in the past cartographers drew leviathans and other sea monsters on maps in regions where a lot of ships had disappeared over time. Harry thought it very unlikely that with a lighthouse this big that had been here for generations, many ships had sunk near the cliffs or the village. The artist must have taken some artistic licence, embellishing where it wasn’t necessary.

Still, Harry was entranced by the map, it truly was a piece of art. He decided to finish working on the lighthouse the next day, instead deciding to walk the perimeter of his property, which appeared to be a lot larger than he had anticipated if the scale on the map was anything to go by.

*

The change of surroundings was quite sudden. He was back in the armchair, his therapist at his side, her wand still attached to his forehead.

“I decided to give you a moment to recover, before we put you under again. The procedure can be quite draining for first-timers.”

“It’s alright.” Harry said, confused at how croaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine, really, we can continue.”

“Before we do, what do you remember up until now?”

She removed her wand and was now pointing it towards a floating scroll and quill, ready to record whatever he said next. He was reminded of Rita Skeeter for a moment and hesitated. But then he shook off his worries and straightened up.

“So, apparently I own a lighthouse.”

~~

Instead of finishing what he had started, Harry bundled up warmly and set out to explore. The heavy clouds were promising rain, but so far, not a single drop had fallen. Harry loved the way the grass moved as the wind blew through it, drawing patterns on the land. There was always something about the seaside, it felt as if the wind was full of stories from far off places, causing an intense case of wanderlust to erupt in the people it passed by.

Harry’s boots were warm and comfortable, he enjoyed walking along the cliffs, glancing down at the shore below, wondering whether any of the driftwood he could see was from some old ship that hadn’t been able to navigate despite the lighthouse. The sea was rough promising cliffs and other dangers beneath its surface. The view gave him pause and he unfolded the map he had taken with him. The island depicted on the map should have been directly in front of him, he had certainly walked far enough by now. Even if the scale was completely off, which Harry decided it really couldn’t have been, he should have been able to see it. Maybe the island had been worn down by the elements. It must have been made of chalk like the rest of the white cliffs.

Harry’s feet eventually carried him towards the village as he turned around at the end of his property. It was certainly an impressive stretch of land that came with the lighthouse. He still didn’t understand why he had been able to acquire it at so little expense.

The streets of the village were quiet, quaint cottages on either side with manicured lawns and fences out front. Harry was reminded of Privet Drive, nothing seemed out of place. It looked like a photograph, frozen in time and void of life. It felt wrong somehow, artificial, as if someone had taken a look at the contestants from the “Village of the Year Awards” and tried to replicate it. Harry shuddered, quickening his pace when the clouds finally kept their promise and fat raindrops began to fall.

A warm glow and friendly chatter were what drew him to the pub. It was the first real sign of human life. The warmth of the taproom made his glasses fog over, despite them being charmed against exactly that happening. He sighed and took them off, drying them haphazardly with a corner of his jumper. Inside the pub was crowded, people were sitting at the bar, in booths and at narrow tables, talking and laughing. In the corner a group of several men and women was absorbed in some kind of dart tournament.

Harry walked up to the bar and ordered a cider and the first type of pub grub on the menu. He didn’t really mind what he got, as long as it was warm and he didn’t have to make it himself. Looking through the pub revealed several of the men in the room to be fishermen, discussing today’s catch and complaining about the strong currents that appeared every autumn, making the navigation of the passage out to the open sea treacherous and nerve-wracking. Feeling was slowly returning to his limbs, the low beamed ceiling keeping in the heat and the beer warming him from inside. When the food arrived it turned out to be some local variation of a cottage pie with a side order of chips and a sad looking salad consisting of three tomato slices, half a carrot and a limp piece of lettuce. Despite its appearance the food was delicious and it wasn’t long before Harry put his cutlery to the side, ordering another beer.

Harry decided to leave just as ‘last call’ rang through the pub. As he was making his way towards the exit he froze, turning to the left. It was almost as if… but it couldn’t have been. There it was again, the faintest shimmer that indicated someone in the left corner was using a Glamour to hide their identity. Harry felt an unstoppable wave of anger crash through him. He turned away from the door and stalked towards where he had seen the shimmer, his wand sliding into his palm. The man looked completely non-descript, everything about him was average and yet, when he moved or smiled it seemed as if his outline suddenly grew hazy. Whoever had cast the Glamour had forgotten to add the motion element.

The man looked up when Harry approached and flinched when he recognised who it was that had stopped in front of him. Harry hadn’t bothered with a Glamour himself, thinking a village as remote as this one to be a safe place, away from spying eyes. Harry smiled coldly as he leant forward and the other man tried to squirm away, Harry’s grip on his shoulder so crushing it was sure to leave bruises. Harry put his mouth close to the stranger’s ear.

“I want to know who you are and what you’re doing here, we’re going to go outside now and then you’ll tell me exactly who sent you and why.”

The stranger shivered and swallowed convulsively, nodding his head.

Harry let go of his shoulder and the man winced. Without another word Harry turned around and left, knowing the stranger would follow him, too afraid of what Harry would do otherwise.

Outside the only illumination came from a sickly moon that was mostly hidden behind the dense cloud cover. Harry stopped and turned around, a thin sliver of light leading from the tip of his shoes back to the pub. He watched his breath rise up into the air in white puffs as he waited.

It wasn’t long before the door to the pub opened again. Harry tensed, holding onto his wand tightly. While he couldn’t apparate, he was already running through suitable spells in heads to disable and bind the other man. If the strange wizard decided to try anything, he was in for a nasty surprise.

The figure approaching him was slumped over, looking vulnerable and scared. Good, Harry thought grimly. Whoever had decided to so blatantly invade his privacy was smart to be afraid.

“Drop the Glamour, now,” Harry said.

“I’m not sure that’s-“

Harry raised his wand threateningly.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

The stranger’s hands shook as he slowly pulled his wand out of his sleeve, Harry’s wand following every minute motion, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

“Finite incantatem.”

He knew that voice. But it couldn’t be.

Like water sliding down a windowpane the glamour fell away. Leaving one very unhappy looking Draco Malfoy standing shivering in the middle of the street in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.

“What the fuck?”

Malfoy just shrugged, looking unsure of what was going to happen next, unlike earlier he was standing straight, staring right at Harry. The fear however was still there in his eyes. Harry hesitated. Why was Malfoy afraid of him? Sure, he had a wand trained at the man and he had already threatened and manhandled him earlier, but the Draco Malfoy he knew wouldn’t have been flustered by any of that. He would have called Harry a dick to his face and stalked away.

“What are you doing here?” Harry forced out.

“I-,” Malfoy swallowed convulsively again and fell silent.

“Have you been following me? Is this some misguided attempt to get a story out of me for your best friend Ms Skeeter?”

“I-, what?” Malfoy looked less scared now and more confused.

“Oh don’t play dumb, Malfoy. Why else would you show up here in the middle of nowhere, wearing a Glamour and hanging out in a Muggle bar of all places. Have you suddenly gone native?”

Harry laughed coldly when Malfoy didn’t reply.

“Thought as much. Well, have fun walking back the two hundred miles to the next Apparition point, you’re not wanted here.”

At that something of the old Malfoy returned. He drew himself up, standing less huddled in on himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, I’d like that very much, I’d like you to bugger of in an easterly direction as fast as possible.”

“Well, tough luck. I always thought you were a complete wanker back at school, thanks for proving me right.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh no, I’m hurt. As you know I live and breathe for your divine attention.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that. It was as if the tables had suddenly been turned.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Potter, but I have a very legitimate reason to be where I am.”

“Which is?” Harry asked, the conversation finally back on track.

“None of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Malfoy turned around and walked off into the darkness. Harry just stood there, dumbfounded, his wand still raised. What had just happened? Harry had no idea. He finally lowered his hand, aware of how ridiculous he must have looked to anyone from the pub glancing outside. 

A cold gust of wind pelting his face with raindrops and small bits of ice finally roused Harry enough to turn around and make his way back to the lighthouse. He was frustrated. What was Malfoy, of all people, doing here? The one time Harry actually wanted to spend some time alone, one of the people he had least wanted to run into had to stay at the same place. How big were the chances? Malfoy must definitely be up to something, maybe he was vetting the area for one of those neo Death Eater groups Harry had read about in _The Prophet_.

If he remembered correctly, nobody knew who they were or what their goal was. There was always some dark wizard on the rise somewhere. Harry certainly knew that, but Voldemort was dead and gone. He still wasn’t sure whether the reason nobody knew was because they actually didn’t know, or because Luna Lovegood had taken over editing of _The Prophet_ , giving it that distinct slightly vague _Quibbler_ feel that she was so proud of.

Maybe Malfoy wanted to relive his glory days? Harry would never know unless he ran into Malfoy again, which considering he hadn’t headed for the hills at Harry’s threats was unfortunately quite likely. There were only so many places one could go in the village and the surrounding fields.

The lighthouse welcomed him with a lit fire and a cup of tea on the armrest of the armchair he had spent the night in. It seemed to be a magical building with its own sense of purpose, a bit like Hogwarts perhaps. Apparently all that it had needed was for someone to take care of it. Harry peeled himself out of his wet clothes and hung them by the hearth, hoping that especially his parka would be dried out by morning. 

The tea was just the right temperature when Harry took his first sip and let himself sink into the cushions of the armchair, somehow far more comfortable than they had been the night before. He would have to deal with Malfoy tomorrow. Harry didn’t even know where he lived, until he did, he would be unable to keep an eye on him. Looking at the fireplace, Harry wished for the first time that he had listened to Hermione and had had it connected to the Floo-Network. He needed to talk to her about this. He was sure she might have an idea of what was going on. But how to go about it?

Harry hadn’t owned an owl he had been entirely happy with since Hedwig, which meant that he didn’t have any means of contacting his friends aside from howlers and the Muggle way. He sighed, the topic at hand was too delicate. He couldn’t risk more people finding out about it. Muggle post it was. Harry conjured a quill and a sheet of paper, quickly writing down a message to Hermione, asking her if she knew anything and asking her advice on how to proceed.

After he was finished, he placed the closed and addressed envelope on the kitchen table and made his way up to the bedroom. He would have to go back to the Village tomorrow, to find out where the closest post office was.

His sleep that night was uneasy, he was plagued by dreams about the deep sea. In his dreams, the lighthouse was underwater and upside down. Strangers hovered outside the windows and pressed their faces against the window, staring at him as if he was an interesting exhibit. Their face were flat and reptilian looking, their noses two shallow slits while their eyes were huge and black. Slowly they began to knock against the windows, like a child would against the glass of a fish tank. The noise grew louder and louder, the pace ever increasing. Harry’s heart was keeping time with the knocking, almost beating out of his chest in fear. It wasn’t long before the first cracks appeared in the glass. The faces began to grin, their tiny teeth grey and sharp. Harry was frozen in his bed, unable to move or scream. A dark shape was bending over him, while the creatures kept looking in. It reached for him, its dark eyes glittering with malice and greed. Its fingers were long and thin with long yellowed nails at the end. It caressed Harry’s face almost gently and somehow he knew that it was pleased it had found him, pleased it had something new to feed on.

Harry woke with a start, the afterimage of the figure bending over his bed still clear in front of his eyes. He scrambled backwards till his back hit the headboard, desperately trying to find a source of light to drive the fear away. When he found it, his wand felt warm and reassuring in his hand. Harry gently lit it up, carefully looking around the room. He was alone.

Suddenly he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, just by the window. Without conscious thought, Harry rushed over there to check. A relieved sigh escaped him when he saw that everything was alright. He could hear thunder in the distance and decided that he must have included the natural phenomenon in his dream. He stood by the window, resting his hands against the cold glass, the solid feel comfortable underneath his fingers.

The dark cloud cover was glowing ominously, flickering in dark shades of yellows as the storm was carried further into the land. Harry hoped that this meant clear skies for tomorrow, he could do with a sunny day after a night as dark as this one. He was just turning around to go back to bed, when he caught a glimpse of a lone figure standing by the cliff. He didn’t need to see the flash of pale blond hair to know who it was.

“Malfoy,” he whispered, his breath fogging up the glass.

That was it. Malfoy must have been doing something to give him bad dreams. There was no other explanation. Harry was furious. He pulled an old woollen jumper over his pyjamas and stalked downstairs. His parka was indeed dry when he slipped into it. His Wellingtons were uncomfortable when he slid in barefoot, but Harry was too angry to go back.

He stalked out into the dark, his wand raised with a Lumos as the wind beat his parka around his slim frame.

“You complete and utter arsehole,” he shouted. “Do you think this is funny? What kind of dick-move is this?”

Malfoy just stood by the cliffs, staring out at the water without moving an inch, his hair fluttering around in the breeze.

“I’m talking to you. The least you could do is acknowledge my presence!”

Malfoy still hadn’t moved by the time Harry was only a few feet away. He looked almost frozen. In the dim light Harry could barely make out that Malfoy’s eyes were open, his open coat flapping in the wind. Wasn’t he cold?

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, unsure of what was going on and much less angry than he had been only a moment ago. “Are you alright?”

No reaction.

Harry stepped up close to Malfoy, despite everything he was worried now. He raised his wand in front of Malfoy’s face and held it up high to get a better look. Malfoy’s irises were huge as saucers in his pale face and they weren’t reacting to the bright light. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all. Something was definitely wrong here.

Harry carefully reached up, taking a hold of the shoulder he had squeezed so hard the night before. He shook him gently.

“Malfoy, can you hear me?”

Malfoy started shivering. His face slowly turned and he looked straight into Harry’s eyes, there was no recognition. Harry didn’t know whether Malfoy was a sleepwalker or what was going on. All he knew was that he had to get Malfoy away from the cliffs. As if his thoughts had conjured a reaction, Malfoy took a step forward and it was only thanks to Harry’s reflexes that he didn’t fall to his death.

Harry pulled Malfoy close to him to make sure he didn’t fall. Malfoy was as cold as a corpse, his face covered in rain and the strands of his hair wet from the rain. How long had he been out here? Harry removed his parka and draped it over Malfoy’s shoulders like a cloak.

“Come on,” he said, winding his hand around Malfoy’s waist and pulling him close against his side. “Let’s get you out of the weather."

Harry tried to speed up their pace, because his jumper wasn’t offering any protecting against the cold wind still coming in from the sea.

I took longer than Harry had anticipated to guide Malfoy back to the lighthouse. When the door finally closed behind them Harry breathed in a sigh of relief. They were safe. He manoeuvred Malfoy onto the sofa by the fire. When he let go of Malfoy his hands came away wet. Just covering him with a blanket wouldn’t be enough, especially as Malfoy’s lips were beginning to turn blue and he had begun to shake so much that he was close to falling off the sofa.

Harry rushed upstairs, quickly grabbing the duvet, a spare set of clothes and a stack of towels. Undressing a mostly unresponsive Malfoy and drying him off, trying to rub some warmth back into his limbs was utterly surreal. Harry had never been allowed this close to the man. It was impossible not to notice the differences between that frightened boy he had seen crying in the bathroom at Hogwarts and the catatonic man lying on the settee before him.

Resting his hand on Malfoy’s shoulders and arms again, Harry realised that Malfoy still wasn’t warmer than before and in actual danger of hypothermia. He had tried several warming charms already, but Malfoy’s body hadn’t responded to any of them. There was nothing to it, Harry sighed and slowly took off his jumper and pyjamas leaving him and Malfoy both clad in a pair of Harry’s boxers each.

This was going to be so awkward, he thought, as he squeezed between Malfoy and the back of the sofa. He pulled up the duvet to cover them both, wrapping his arms around Malfoy from behind, running them up and down his torso and arms. Warmth from the fire caressed Harry’s face, where he lay behind Malfoy, feeling his cold frame shake against Harry’s chest. Slowly but surely the shivers subsided and Malfoy’s breathing began to even out. Harry raised himself up to look at Malfoy’s face and was glad to finally see his features relaxed in sleep.

*

“Anything?”

“Nothing that makes sense, but I think if we keep going, we might find something.”

“Alright, lean back.”

~~

Something tickled Harry’s nose, he blew at whatever it was and snuggled closer. His arms tightened around the source of warmth in front of him. Harry nosed along the soft skin, placing a trail of lazy kisses along the arch of the neck. He was too comfortable and exhausted to even open his eyes. Inhaling the delicious scent of his partner, he sighed in satisfaction and decided to go back to sleep.

It was much later, when Harry woke, because the shape in front of him had begun to slowly remove his arms from around his body.

“What’s going on?” Harry mumbled, cranking one eye open and staring at the man in front of him.

“Potter, what the fuck did you do?” Malfoy hissed, waking Harry faster than a bucket of ice water to the face would have done.

“Malfoy,” he croaked. “You’re alright?”

“No, I’m bloody well not alright, I went to bed in my own room and I woke up beside you.” he looked down at himself his eyebrows rising, “On top of that, I’m apparently almost completely starkers and wearing your clothes. You should be glad I don’t know where my wand is or this conversation wouldn’t be as pleasant to you as it is right now.”

“Uhm,” Harry hesitated. “Do you know that you sleep walk?”

“I… what?! I don’t sleep walk!”

“Well,” Harry leaned against the backrest of the sofa, lazily scratching his treasure trail. “I’m afraid I’ve got news for you, unless you have another explanation as to why you spent the entire night outside in the storm and then tried to step off a cliff.”

“This can’t be happening. You’re making this up.”

“Afraid not. Sorry.”

As much as Harry had thought he would enjoy seeing a flustered and distressed Malfoy, he really didn’t. Malfoy seemed almost vulnerable, his arms protectively crossed against his chest and hugging his sides. His eyes were darting around the room as if he expected something horrible to jump out of the shadows any minute. It really wasn’t funny at all.

“Listen, Malfoy, how about I make us some coffee, get you some clothes and we talk?”

Malfoy hesitated and Harry almost expected him to leave without another word, but eventually Malfoy sagged into himself even further and nodded dejectedly.

Harry reached for his discarded jumper and handed it to Malfoy.

“Put this on for now. You look cold.”

He didn’t stay to watch but went into the kitchen instead. The coffee machine sputtered into life and started to slowly dispense its life giving elixir into the pot. Harry hit his forehead against the cupboard several times. What the hell was he supposed to do now? It seemed like something was seriously wrong here and somehow Malfoy was all tangled up in it. Harry had no idea where to begin.

He returned into the main room, with two coffee mugs, handing one to Malfoy and then taking a seat beside him.

“What happened?” Malfoy’s voice sounded small as he spoke, wrapping his hands around the cup without taking a sip.

As Harry recounted what had happened the night before, Malfoy grew even paler.

“So you see, I don’t even know how you got here. I just made sure nothing happened to you.”

“Thank you, Potter,” Malfoy replied and for the first time in his life Harry’s name didn’t sound like an insult coming from him. Malfoy was fidgeting, his eyes darting around the room again. When they alighted on his clothes, he got up and set down his cold untouched coffee.

He got dressed in silence. Harry averted his gaze to give Malfoy a modicum of privacy. He could feel the blush on his skin, when he remembered how much he had already seen of Malfoy the night before. This wasn’t good. Someone cleared their throat in front of Harry and startled him.

“Here.”

Malfoy handed Harry his neatly folded jumper.

“Do you want to stay for breakfast?” Harry asked, fidgeting with the hem of the duvet.

“Listen, Potter, really, thank you …” Malfoy let his sentence taper off, before visibly pulling himself together. “Thank you, but I have to go. Maybe some other time.”

He turned and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him. Harry took a sip of his coffee and made a grimace, when he realised that his coffee was just as cold as Malfoy’s. He went to the kitchen to pour the vile liquid down the drain. If this was any indication on how his day would proceed, Harry didn’t want to know what else was going to happen.

When he returned to the kitchen, his eyes fell on the letter he had planned to send to Hermione. He still felt the need for answers, but maybe asking Hermione in her official capacity wasn’t the right way to go about it. With a negligent toss, Harry threw the letter into the flames.

A grin spread across his face. It was almost like old times, Malfoy was up to something and Harry was going to find out what it was.

*

“Mr. Potter, did you remember anything of significance? The earlier scans indicated that these memories were intertwined with intense emotions.

Harry hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to tell his therapist about what he remembered?

“There was a man.”

“A man?”

“Yes, I know him from school.”

“So, not a close friend I gather.”

“No, we used to be what you might call rivals.”

“What’s his name?”

“Malfoy,” Harry swallowed, “Draco Malfoy.”

“Is there anything specific you can tell me about him?”

“Not really, I don’t know why he was there yet, he wouldn’t tell me. But I think there was something else going on. I think we should continue.”

“Alright, Mr. Potter. The scan indicates that the next few days have very little in the way of the emotional reactions we are looking for. I will revive the entire block of memories and it will feel a bit like what Muggles call a ‘training montage’ before the next major memory will emerge. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

~~

After that awkward morning, Harry saw Malfoy more often, but only from afar, around the village, in the fields and most often down on the seashore, carrying a folder of some kind with him and obviously searching for something. They never talked, only ever nodding at each other in recognition, if their gazes caught over the distance.

Harry’s nights grew troubled, the nightmares recurring, always filled with those strange and terrifying creatures. He tossed and turned and woke up exhausted every day, despite taking a dreamless sleep potion he had had with him. The lack of sleep was taking its toll, his face began to look haggard and there were dark circles underneath his eyes that seemed to have darkened with very passing day.

That wasn’t the only strange thing. Harry had gone back to the pub several times. He had spoken with several of the patrons, asking about the village and its history and generally just satisfying his growing craving for human contact. When he came back the next time however, the people he had spoken to didn’t seem to remember him or when he asked about an elderly lady he had spoken to, nobody seemed to remember her either.

Harry was beginning to worry that he was losing his mind. He actually began to treasure the moments when he caught Malfoy’s eye and the man nodded back at him. It was as if Harry had somehow ceased to exist in people’s memories. And there was something else. A feeling like a creeping menace that came in from the sea and getting stronger every day, like a terrible smell full of death and decay carried on the wind.

His dreams became ever more vivid, he could hear the scratching of the creatures hands on the glass and the outside of the lighthouse, whether he was awake or asleep. He knew it wasn’t the wind, couldn’t have been the wind, when he discovered the deep gouges in his front door and on the wooden shutters.

*

Sudden fear punched through him. Harry couldn't breathe. Something else had happened, something terrible, something he couldn’t remember, all he knew was that he had to get away. Harry was half out of his armchair, when his therapist’s words finally managed to penetrate the fog of panic.

“Mr. Potter, remember that nothing can hurt you here. They are only memories. You are completely safe.”

Her voice calmed him. Harry nodded. 

“Now, please tell me what caused this.”

Harry wiped a sweaty palm across his face and adjusted his glasses before he recalled the dreams.

“It’s as if condensing the time made it more prominent, like I probably didn’t notice at the time, because there was always and explanation for everything.”

“Are you sure you want to continue?”

“Yes,” he said his voice wavering. Harry took a sip from his water and tried to recollect himself. “Yes, I think so. It feels like we are getting closer.”

~~

The day he discovered the physical evidence on the outside of the lighthouse, Harry went in search of Malfoy for the first time. He found him not far from the lighthouse walking purposefully through the hip-high grass.

Malfoy was looking at his folder and using his wand to point at different boulders that were mostly hidden behind the dancing stalks. He seemed to follow a path that only he could see, stopping for no apparent reasons sometimes only to suddenly continue in a completely different direction.

Harry had to call Malfoy’s name several times before he got any reaction out of him and was dreadfully reminded of the night by the cliffs. When Malfoy finally noticed him, his formerly relaxed face clouded over. Harry approached him, forcing his mouth into a smile

“Hey, Malfoy.”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to ask you-“ Harry paused, looking at Malfoy’s strange equipment, at the weird double-lensed goggles he was wearing that he hadn’t been able to make out from the distance, at the heavy book under his arm and the strange lines and writings on the sheets in the folder. “What are you working on anyway?”

“That’s none of your business.” Malfoy’s voice was as hostile as ever. “And if you say I can’t be on your land, I’ve got a permit, so there is nothing you can do about it either way. Now, would you be so kind as to bugger off? I’m on a bit of a time limit here.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Malfoy was already turning away, his nose back in his folder, when Harry plucked up his courage.

“Listen, I’m sorry to disturb you, Malfoy. I respect that you are busy, but could you do me a favour and come by the lighthouse? There’s something that I really need an outsider’s opinion on.”

“And why would you trust my judgement, Potter? You’ve made it fairly clear, what you think of my presence here, that night at the pub.”

It took Harry a moment to come up with an answer and he began to fidget, faced with Malfoy’s growing impatience.

“I don’t know who else to ask,” he finally admitted, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

Several emotions passed over Malfoy’s face, too fast for Harry to catch any of them, it solidified in his usual mask of indifference, but Malfoy nodded once before turning away for good. He called back over his shoulder.

“I’ll come by some time later tonight.”

Harry was surprised at the wave of relief he felt at Malfoy’s words. He watched the other man stride through the field for a little while longer, before he let his feet carry him back to the lighthouse.

It was dark by the time the knock came. Harry had been unable to settle down all day and was glad that the waiting was almost over. When he opened the door however, there was no one there. Harry looked around frantically but couldn’t see anyone. The sky was dark again and thunder sounded from the distance.

“Malfoy, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny,” Harry shouted into the darkness but only silence answered him.

He walked around the base of the lighthouse checking all the shutters before returning to the front door and going back inside. Harry was just about to close the door, when lightening lit up the night and he saw the silhouettes of dozens of figures standing several yards away from the entryway. The door shook in its frame when Harry slammed it shut with as much force as he could muster.

He rushed for his wand, his heart racing with terror. It was all true. What he had seen in his dreams, it was really happening.

Another knock sounded and Harry began to shake with terror. They were here to claim him, to take him away. The knocking continued and grew louder, more urgent.

“Stop it, stop it. Leave me alone,” he whimpered.

“Potter, for fuck’s sake! It’s freezing out here. Open the bloody door!”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Malfoy was here. Finally. Harry scrambled towards the door, his wand clutched tightly in his fist. He stood to the side, his wand at the ready and slowly opened the door to reveal a windswept and annoyed Draco Malfoy.

“Well, finally. What took you so long?” Malfoy broke off, giving him a once over. “You look like shit, Potter. What happened?”

Harry rushed forward pulling him inside and pressed his wand against Draco’s throat, before slamming his back into the closed front door.

“Don’t even pretend you don’t know. Do you think this is funny? Huh? Are you getting a kick out of this, seeing me like this?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Harry screamed, waving his wand around agitatedly. It was the opening Malfoy had been looking for, because he disarmed Harry and pushed him against the wall.

“Potter,” he said very slowly. “Calm the fuck down. Don’t make me stupefy you.”

Harry tried to calm down, he really did, but all that happened was that he suddenly couldn’t get enough air. Everything that had happened, everything he had dreamt and seen that night came crashing down on him. He was losing his mind.

“I can’t-“

Harry’s legs gave way and he would have fallen if Malfoy hadn’t caught him.

“Fuck,” Malfoy said, his voice shaking. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can’t… breathe…”

Malfoy seemed to have made up his mind, because suddenly he was taking Harry’s hands and holding them against his own chest, breathing in and out slowly and exaggeratedly.

“Concentrate on my breathing, Potter. Come on, I know you can do it.”

After several shorter gasps Harry finally managed to get in a deep breath of air and then another, as his breathing slowed and became in sync with Malfoy’s.

“There you go, well done,” Malfoy said. His voice sounded both exasperated and fond.

Harry opened his eyes and looked straight at Malfoy who was smiling down at him.

“Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

They sat there quietly for a while neither breaking eye contact. Malfoy’s hands were warm and comfortable where they still held Harry’s palms against his chest. The fabric there was soft across the very solid feel of Malfoy’s pectoral muscles.

Harry cleared his throat when the silence became awkward. His mind however was drawing a blank.

“So,” Draco asked eventually, “Do you want to talk about it?”

So Harry told him, in stinted sentences, about the dreams he had been having, about the strange noises and the scratches on his door and about his experiences in the village.

“I have to admit that I haven’t been back there since we spoke, so I don’t know about that, but I think I might know what to do about the nightmares.”

He helped Harry up and settled him into the armchair by the fire, before turning towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Harry wanted to stop him. What if they were still there? It wasn’t safe outside. It wasn’t safe.

“Wait.”

Malfoy turned around.

“Don’t worry,” he said, indicating his wand, “I’ll be careful.”

Malfoy opened the door and glanced outside. After a moment he seemed to be satisfied and turned to the arch of the doorway. He used his wand to carve in a series of runes that Harry had never seen before. They glowed for a moment before sinking into the wood and disappearing. When Malfoy was finished it was as if a weight had been lifted.

The shadows didn’t seem to be as deep anymore, it was as if whatever had been hiding in them had fled the lighthouse. Whatever Malfoy had done, Harry suddenly knew that he wouldn’t have to worry about nightmares any longer.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

“You’re welcome.”

Harry didn’t know what to do. Should he offer Malfoy some tea, or something stronger? He looked down at his still shaking hands. Whatever plans he made would have to wait till he calmed down sufficiently.

“Harry?”

Harry came back to himself, Malfoy was crouching before him, his hands on Harry’s knees. He must have said Harry’s name several times before Harry heard him.

“Are you alright?”

Harry had no answer to that. He was surprised when Malfoy took one of his hands and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Do you want me to stay until you feel better?”

This was completely uncharted territory for Harry. He wasn’t used to Malfoy caring for him, without any apparent dark agenda. There wasn’t any doubt as to what his answer would be, he didn’t have a choice. Harry didn’t want to be alone.

“Yes.” Was all he managed to say.

“Alright,” Malfoy slapped his hands against his thighs and stood up. “I’ll make us some tea.”

After they had finished the tea and Harry had managed not to spill most of it, Malfoy helped him up to his bedroom. Harry was curled up under the duvet, still wearing his regular clothes, but too exhausted to change and not close enough to Malfoy to ask him for help.

Malfoy was about to walk out of the room, his hand already on the doorknob, when Harry was hit by another wave of fear. He sat up and called Malfoy back.

“Could you stay?”

“Yes, I thought we had established that. I was just going to sleep on the sofa.”

Harry could feel his cheek heat with embarrassment at what he was about to ask. He hated feeling this vulnerable.

“No, I meant-,“ he paused again, his hands picking at the fraying border of the duvet, “Could you stay here, in my room.” He swallowed, “with me.”

Malfoy looked torn for a moment, until he eventually nodded.

“Alright, but give me a moment to turn off the lights and fetch my things. I’ll be right back.”

Harry was too nervous to lie back down. He stared at the sliver of light underneath the door and strained his ears, waiting for Malfoy to return and hoping he would keep his word. It wasn’t long before Malfoy opened the door again. He had taken off his boots and cloak and was wearing the jumper Harry had given him the last time he was here.

“Where do you want me?”

Harry blushed at the double entendre.

“Uhm.”

“I can sleep on the floor if you like? If you give me something to transmogrify, I can use that to sleep on.”

“No, it’s alright, you can sleep in the bed with me,” Harry said, desperately hoping Malfoy would say yes.

Harry craved safety more than anything else and somehow having Malfoy in his home seemed like the best option. Malfoy looked at him enquiringly for a moment before shrugging and climbing into bed beside Harry. 

“Turn over,” he said and curled up behind Harry, his arm securely wrapped around Harry’s waist, providing comfort as if he had read Harry’s earlier thoughts.

Harry felt Malfoy’s warmth seep into his bones and sighed. He was safe, for now.

~~

After that night, Malfoy came by the lighthouse almost every day. The runes in the doorframe were slowly followed by runes on the floor, the windowpanes and eventually runes scraped into the bedposts in Harry’s bedroom.

Whenever Malfoy stayed the night, the nightmares stayed away, which was reason enough for Harry to ask him to stay. Malfoy on the other hand didn't seem to mind. One day he simply showed up at the lighthouse with two suitcases and a large bag.

The strange thing was they never talked about it. They talked about a lot of things, but never why Harry had asked Draco – because it was Draco now - to stay or why Draco had agreed. Eventually Draco told Harry about his work for the Ministry. About how he needed something after Hogwarts that would take him to far away places, something he could do by himself and something where he could use his intellect and talents for the good of wizardkind. He had told Harry that he felt the need to make amends.

Magical Archaeology had fit the bill perfectly. Harry could see that it gave Draco a sense of purpose. The way he talked about the places he had been, since he had finished his studies, about the cultures he had visited and about the things he had learnt. One could fill whole books with all that knowledge, Harry had said and Draco had smiled, his cheeks red-tinged in pleasure at the compliment.

Most evenings they sat together, Draco telling Harry about the things he had discovered in the area. They pored over the maps and etchings Draco had brought with him, discussing theories and spinning the most ridiculous stories of adventure. 

When Harry watched Draco talk about what he enjoyed, the man seemed to change completely. It was an eye-opener. Harry had only ever seen Draco in situations that were about status, about fear or fury, he had never seen him take such innocent pleasure in anything and it transformed him.

Lying in bed beside Draco every night began to feel strange, because it was completely platonic. They cuddled up almost every night and even during the day, casual reassuring touches occurred more often than Harry could count. Nothing else changed though and Harry didn’t understand why. At this point he didn’t even know if he wanted things to change, because for the first time in a long time he was truly happy. It had been weeks ago when Harry had given up on the grudge he held against Hermione for his forced vacation time. She had been completely right, like always.

The day things changed was like any other before it. The sun had finally decided to show its face and Harry and Draco were walking along the beach, after a dangerous climb down the cliffs. The tide was just going out and large stretches of land were suddenly accessible, which had prompted Draco to drag a laughing Harry out of the house and towards the cliffs.

“Why couldn’t we have taken the Firebolt to come down here?” Harry asked, his hands and knees sore where he had scraped them multiple times.

“There is some kind of magnetic disturbance in this area, we would probably have crash-landed somewhere. I tried it on my first day here and it was so bad I essentially saw my life flash before my eyes.”

Harry laughed at that.

“Twat.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Very mature,” Draco replied.

“You like it,” Harry joked and then smiled, when Draco didn’t say anything, but the red tips of his ears spoke louder than words anyway.

“Come on then, weren’t you going to show me something?”

Draco straightened up began to walk down the beach in fast strides, beckoning Harry to follow him.

They reached a massive boulder that was mostly submerged when the tide was high, but was largely exposed now. Draco pointed at a swirly rune at the side of the boulder.

“Look familiar?”

“Yes, wasn’t there something like this on one of the etchings you showed me?”

“Exactly, what does it look like to you in this context though?”

“I don’t know,” Harry turned his head this way and that, looking at the carving on the face of the stone. The different angles made the image seem almost alive, as if the spirals and swirls were actually moving. “It almost looks like a vortex of some kind.”

“Very good,” Draco grinned, “you’ll enjoy this.”

Harry stood still staring at Draco, his wand extended towards the boulder and smiling like there was no tomorrow, while the wind blew the strands of his hair around his head. It was like a punch to the gut when Harry realised he had never seen anyone more beautiful. The intensity of his own reaction surprised him. He tried to downplay the effect Draco was having on him by pretending to adjust his scarf, hoping Draco hadn’t noticed what could only have a smitten expression on Harry’s own face.

It wasn’t so much that Harry feared what might come of those feelings, or that he feared rejection; it was that he didn’t know what to do with them. He hadn’t expected to like Draco Malfoy, let alone to be attracted to him.

“Harry, look!”

Harry pulled himself together and looked at where Draco was pointing. Harry could feel his eyebrows climb up into his fringe at the sight in front of him. Draco had tipped his wand against different parts of the rune and it had actually begun to swirl. The centre of it became larger and darker and eventually resolved itself into a tunnel mouth with a set of stairs leading downward.

“That’s-,” Harry felt like he had completely forgotten the entire English language. He tried again, “Draco, that’s absolutely fantastic. How did you… what is that?”

“That, my friend, is the entrance to the archaeological dig I’ve been working on these past few weeks.”

Friends, they were friends. Harry had to remind himself not to be disappointed. He should be happy, he told himself, that they had moved on from enemies to grudging acquaintances and now graduated to friends. Then why did he feel the bitter sting of disappointment?

“Are you coming?” Draco asked, his hand outstretched towards Harry.

Harry swallowed, if Draco wanted to be friends, then he would be the best bloody friend he could be. He forced himself to smile and after taking in Draco and his excitement it morphed into an actual smile.

“Alright, lead the way.”

The Lumos Draco cast easily lit their way down the slippery stairs. Harry had to repeatedly hold on to Draco to keep himself from falling, but much like with their nightly arrangement, Draco didn’t comment on it at all. The walls of the tunnel were slick with water and cold to the touch.

Harry didn’t know how much time had passed when they eventually reached the bottom, but it felt like hours. Draco turned to him and grinned sharply, before snuffing out the Lumos. Harry looked around in wonder. It wasn’t dark as he had expected. The walls and ceiling were actually glowing which he hadn’t been able to see because his eyes were so used to the brightness of Draco’s spell.

“What is this?”

“It’s the city I told you about.”

“But I thought… didn’t you say that it was all a myth?”

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Harry smiled at Draco, this was definitely a surprise. The cave was gigantic and stretched further than he could properly make out. If this had been a city on the surface it would have housed several million people. They slowly walked closer, passing through a gate that was encrusted with seaweed and clams. Harry ran his fingers along the cold wet stone and felt a weird tingling, almost like recognition.

They approached a large square surrounded by the strangest buildings Harry had ever seen. The architecture in this city was like nothing he had ever seen. It was as if whoever had built it hadn’t needed to stick to such plebeian things as right angles or bother with gravity. More than anything the city felt completely other, giving of the impression as if humans, even wizards, were not supposed to be there. At the same time it was utterly fascinating and Harry couldn’t stop gazing around, always expecting to see something even weirder or more marvellous and never getting disappointed.

“How long has this been here?”

“I managed to date some of the structures, actually, this has been here for several hundred millions years.”

“You’re not serious.”

“It’s true, I actually managed to prove my results without a doubt. The etchings and documents I showed you are mostly from other scientists and archaeologists. They have been finding places like this for hundreds of years. Although I’ve never read of one as well-preserved as this one. You’re the only other person beside me who knows of this.”

“Who even built it? A hundred million years ago dinosaurs would have lived here.”

“Precisely.”

“You’re pulling my leg,” Harry said, staring at a suspiciously straight-faced Draco.

“Oh my God, your face!”

Draco’s laughter was loud and carefree and Harry couldn’t help but join in. They laughed until their bellies hurt and each time they looked at each other they started all over again. When they finally managed to calm down Draco was half hanging over Harry’s back, trying to keep himself and Harry upright. Their faces were close to touching, Harry would only need to lean forward a few inches to close the distance and taste. He held Draco’s gaze and leant in slightly only to have Draco blush furiously and disentangle himself quickly.

He had his answer, Harry decided, feeling a hot sense of shame slowly spread through him. He was glad the pale light hid any colour because he didn’t want Draco to see. Harry felt already vulnerable enough after his discovery and he just wasn’t ready for this to become just one more burden.

“We can’t stay in here much longer, the tide will come in soon and we have to leave before then, otherwise it gets dangerous.” Draco was rubbing his neck nervously as he spoke. “If you like, there’s still something I wanted to show you, but I’d understand if you…” he let the sentence peter off.

“No, please, show me.”

Draco guided him over to what Harry had originally assumed was a fountain.

“You see, I’ve got a different theory about where they came from. It might be a bit out there.” Draco laughed at his own words and went on. “I don’t think whoever built this evolved on earth, I think it was the other way around. I believe _they_ came here and then reptile evolution started.”

Harry looked at him, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“You’re serious. Then what proof do you have that your theory is correct?”

Draco smiled.

“This,” he said and pressed his wand against the rim of the _fountain_. 

Instead of water, bright light spilled from the pillar in the middle spreading through the room until it hit the ceiling high above them. Whatever had shot forth enveloped them like a huge canopy, Harry couldn’t stop turning and gazing around himself as wonder after wonder was revealed. The houses around them were covered in small bright pinpricks of light and on top of the fountains centre there hovered what could only be a galaxy.

“Is this a star map of some kind?” Harry asked, still completely in awe.

“Yes,” Draco sounded proud, “and look, if I do this,” he touched his hand to one of the bright stars between himself and Harry and it expanded until they could make out an entire solar system.

“How far is this from us?” Harry asked, because the solar system in front of them obviously wasn’t their own.

“I don’t really know, I haven’t deciphered that yet, but I can show you something else.” 

Draco used his wand to circle the solar system in front of him and did several quick deliberate flicks of his wrist. Another star system close to the ceiling suddenly glowed brighter and seemed to grow in size. The map shifted and the star system appearing in front of them was quite obviously their own. Draco used his hands to focus the map onto a small blue planet orbiting a large sun.

“Is that earth?”

“Yes.”

Draco brought up the planet in front of them. Earth was easily recognisable now with its continents and large oceans.

“But how is that possible? Shouldn’t the continents be in a completely different place, because of tectonic drift?”

“You’re right,” Draco said, a shrewd look appeared on his face. “I wonder…”

He magnified the planet again, this time on the northern hemisphere and right there at the coast where they were a bright blue light was flickering on and off.

“Is that some kind of beacon?”

“I suppose so.”

“How can it still be active after all this time?”

“Harry, if I knew that, I would never have to work again.”

Harry smiled at him.

“But this still doesn’t mean that this city was built by dinosaurs.”

“That’s not what I said, but I’ll show you in a minute. First I want to show you, where _they_ are from.”

Draco’s wand pointed at the centre of the fountain and caused most of the map to vanish, now there was only one large blue orb hovering just above the pillar. The planet was mostly covered in water with very small landmasses.

“So far I’ve deciphered that the planet has a mild climate, winter over there is probably most easily compared to our spring. Whoever lived there survived on oxygen and in salt water. I think the reason they came here was because they wanted to experiment. You’ve heard of the great mass extinctions, right?”

“I think so.”

“So, basically, my theory is that whoever they were, they terra-formed our planet, which caused at least one of the mass extinctions. Their planet is a lot like earth. Our planet is a bit colder and we’ve got more landmass, but otherwise they are suspiciously alike.”

“So why dinosaurs?”

“I don’t know, but it makes sense, when you look at their records.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, here, look.”

Draco manipulated another part of the fountain. The blue globe disappeared, where it had been was now something Harry had seen many times before. He pointed upward.

“Is that…?”

“If you’re wondering if that’s a double helix, then yes, it is.”

Harry didn’t know what to say.

“Here’s something even more impressive though, that’s only one DNA string right there. Let me just open the archive.”

And apparently he did. Much like the stars and star systems earlier, the cave was now filled with hundreds of double helixes.

“But this could be anything…” Harry began only to see Draco smirk at him.

“I knew you were going to say that. Check this out, the archive has got a “view as is” option.”

No sooner had he spoken and the entire space around them was taken up with glowing dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes, slowly moving around them, diving through the air or circling overhead. Harry couldn’t hold back the wonder. He whooped with joy and ran up to Draco, throwing his arms around him. They both kept gazing up at the ceiling for a while, enjoying the images of life that had long been gone from their planet before they or their families had even been born.

In the end Harry’s gaze found Draco’s. Draco’s arms were wrapped tightly around Harry’s waist and Harry’s were wrapped around Draco’s neck. They were both smiling like lunatics. Harry leant forward and ran his nose along Draco’s cheek before placing a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, still smiling.

Harry didn’t know what he was expecting, but when Draco surged forward to press his own lips back against Harry’s with a desperate sound, he could only kiss back. Harry immediately loved the slide of Draco’s lips against his. He nipped Draco’s lower lip and quickly soothed the hurt with his tongue. Draco opened his mouth on a moan granting him access. 

The slip and slide of their tongues felt amazing. Harry lost himself in the sensation, running his hands through Draco’s hair, while Draco clung to him, running his own hands down Harry’s flanks, desperately trying to untuck Harry’s shirt. Harry didn’t mind and groaned when Draco’s slender fingers finally found skin. Draco tasted like coffee and those sweet cakes he always liked to submerge in the milk foam every morning in bed.

Eventually they had to break apart to breathe, but they stayed close, sharing each other’s breath.

“That was…”

“Yeah…”

Before they could go back to what they had been doing, Harry became aware of something else.

“Draco, is it just me, or are your feet also getting wet?”

“Fuck, the tide is coming in. We’ve got to run.”

Draco flicked his wand at the fountain and it extinguished immediately. The absence of the ghostly dinosaur shapes plunged the cave back into darkness. Harry could feel the water seeping into his trainers and turned to Draco.

“Do you trust me?” Draco asked and offered Harry his hand, which he was just able to make out as his eyes got used to the dim light spread by the algae.

“Of course,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand and felt that he meant it, completely and utterly.

“Then run,” Draco shouted mirthfully.

Harry was led out of the city by his hand, running as fast as his feet could carry him to keep up with Draco. Their wet steps echoed through the cave like thunder every time their feet came down. It took a long time to reach the foot of the stairs; they must have walked further into the cave than Harry had originally thought.

The climb up was harrowing, the steps slippery and only lit by the Lumos Draco had to cast again. Harry had to hold onto the walls with his free hand to not lose his balance while behind them the sound of the ocean grew ever louder. Finally a spot of light appeared in front of them, growing ever larger, the closer they got.

Harry and Draco collapsed onto the sand at the bottom of the cliffs, both gasping out ragged breaths.

“We’re so out of shape, it’s not even funny,” Harry exclaimed.

“Tell me about it, we almost didn’t make it.”

“Well, we were distracted…” Harry let the sentence peter off. Out here in the fresh air it suddenly all seemed much too real. What if Draco didn’t want to be with Harry like that, or worse what if he only wanted to be with him like that and nothing else. Harry wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

“Hey,” Draco grabbed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss against Harry’s knuckles. “You’re thinking too much.”

After getting up, Draco hoisted Harry up using the hand he was still holding onto.

“Come on, let’s get back to the lighthouse. We can both have a cup of tea and then we’ll talk. Alright?”

Harry nodded and let Draco lead the way.

~~

Harry moaned loudly where he was writhing on the bed, while Draco had two fingers buried deep inside him and was sucking on Harry’s cock for all he was worth.

“I thought we were going to talk?” he gasped out, thoughts almost entirely lost to pleasure.

“Talking is overrated,” Draco replied after he let go of Harry’s cock. He twisted his fingers and rubbed against Harry’s prostate making him see stars.

“Oh God,” Harry whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, just do it?”

“Do what?”

Harry opened his eyes and looked down at Draco whose pupils were blown so wide that only a slim sliver of his iris was visible. Draco was panting almost as much as Harry where he was kneeling between Harry’s spread legs. Harry could see the outline of Draco’s hard cock where it was straining against his tailored trouser. He unconsciously licked his lips at the sight and saw that Draco’s gaze was drawn to his lips.

With a moan, Draco threw himself forward. The position was slightly awkward with Draco’s fingers still buried inside Harry’s hole and his hand gripping onto Harry’s biceps so hard it was guaranteed to leave bruises. The thought of Draco leaving his mark on Harry made him moan even louder into the kiss. Harry felt like he was losing himself, he was being devoured in the best possible way.

Draco’s breath was warm as he kissed a trail up Harry’s neck towards his ear, before he whispered.

“Do what?”

Harry couldn’t suppress the noise he made at the feeling of Draco nibbling on his earlobe. He was already lost and he didn’t mind one bit.

“Fuck me, please, Draco, fuck me.”

*

“What are you feeling now, Mr Potter?”

Harry felt disoriented, hadn’t he just been in the middle of something. His therapist repeated her question.

“Affection?” 

“My scans indicate that that is not entirely accurate Mr Potter. Can you please specify? This is important, this part of your memories shows an especially strong emotional reaction.”

What was he supposed to say? That he felt desperate, wanton, turned on? All of those emotions were overlain with a layer of fondness.

“I can't-“ he stopped again, the memory still vivid in his mind it felt as if he was still staring down at where Draco Malfoy of all people had his cock in his mouth. It hit him then, the ridiculous notion that despite the lust and the gut-wrenching need, what he felt more than anything at that moment was something so much more than affection. It was:

“Love.”

~~

Harry woke when he felt warm lips press against his nape. Draco’s arms wound around his waist and pulled him tighter against his chest. Harry slowly turned around in the embrace to face Draco. Who smiled and pressed lazy kisses against Harry’s lips. The dim light of an early morning fell through the curtains and made everything seem softer. No morning in a very long time had felt as perfect as this one. 

He ran his hands along Draco’s bare chest and sighed at the feeling of the warm smooth skin all there for him to touch. Draco smoothed back Harry’s bed hair and smiled when Harry in turn ran his fingers through Draco’s hair.

Harry was still in awe over the situation. He had never in his wildest dreams believed that he would be here now with Draco Malfoy of all people. He couldn’t have imagined wanting this as badly as he did, and most of all, he couldn’t have imagined Draco wanting to be here with him. For the first time in his life, it felt like being “just Harry” was actually enough.

They shared more slow kisses, uncaring of morning breath and other complications, simply taking pleasure in each other and the fact they didn’t owe anyone anything. This moment was completely theirs and they would do whatever they wanted.

A short while later found Harry sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, one foot tucked underneath the other thigh and his chest turned toward Draco who was in the kitchen making coffee.

“Did you sleep well?” Draco asked when he walked in with two mugs, handing one to Harry who immediately wrapped his fingers around his.

“Yes, thank you.” Harry couldn’t stop smiling.

“No bad dreams?”

“Not since you decided to stay.”

Draco’s smile could have lit up the room and Harry was suddenly glad that he had taken the risk and given in to his desires the day before.

“What do you want to do today?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I could think of a few things.”

Harry took a sip of his coffee to hide his blush and ended up sputtering because he had burnt his tongue. He didn’t dare meet Draco’s eyes. Harry could hear the distinct clink of china on wood and then gentle fingers were prying the mug from his fingers followed by exactly the same sound. Draco’s fingers cradled his chin, raising his face.

“Hey,” Draco said gently, holding Harry’s gaze, “you don’t have to hide from me, Harry.”

He placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s lips and Harry felt himself melt against Draco, growing ever calmer and more confident with every following kiss. When they had to pause for breath, Harry’s eyes fell on a bundle of rolled up papers in the corner, and he suddenly had an idea.

“Draco, let me up for a minute.”

Draco looked at him questioningly, as if he wanted to say ‘why did we stop?’, when Harry got up to fetch the maps. Harry smiled and pecked Draco on the lips when the look registered with him. He sat beside Draco, so they were touching from foot to shoulder and began to unroll the first map.

“There’s something I wanted to show you after last night. I think you’re going to get a kick out of it!”

The first map he unrolled was also the one that Harry had found himself. Draco lit up when he saw the little notations and the images of the sea creatures just above where Harry now knew the city lay. Draco traced the lines reverently and then looked directly up at Harry.

“Where did you get these?”

“They were in a hidden compartment in the chest by my bed, upstairs.”

“Harry, do you have any idea of how amazing these are? I think these are the originals I’ve read about. I’ve got copies of these in my office in London, but even they are so precious that I didn’t take the copies with me.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“So you found all that you did with copies of copies?”

“Yes. But mine didn’t have half of these markers. I think whoever drew the copies must have seen the maps before they were finished and then for some reason never got around to editing them.”

Harry couldn’t help himself. Draco being excited about something he loved turned out to be his Achilles heel. He closed the gap between them, cutting Draco off in the middle of a sentence that was so littered with technical terms that Harry wouldn’t have been able to follow him even if he hadn’t got distracted.

“What was that for?” Draco asked, when they came up for air.

Harry fondly ran his nose along Draco’s cheek and cupped his face.

“You don’t even know, do you?”

“What don’t I know?” Draco asked, sounding enchanted.

“How beautiful you are, when you smile.”

This time it was Draco’s turn to blush and lower his eyes.

“I never really got to see that directed at me, while we were at Hogwarts and after the war I only ever saw you from a distance.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, it wasn’t your fault.”

Draco suddenly turned serious.

“But it was, I did those things freely, I-,” his voice broke off. “I killed Dumbledore.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“But, how?”

“I was there on the roof that night, petrified under the invisibility cloak.”

“I might as well have killed him.”

“But the point is that you didn’t.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Draco sounded sad and Harry couldn’t let that stand. He took Draco’s hand and pulled him against his chest, wrapping his arms around Draco from behind, so he was cradled between Harry’s legs. Harry pressed his face to the side of Draco’s holding him close. At least in this he could give comfort for once instead of take it.

“Draco, you are not to blame. You can blame the circumstances, you can blame Voldemort, hell, you can even blame me, but you can’t blame yourself. You are not the same person you were then and I’m convinced that if things had been different from the start you would have never had to make a choice that difficult. I know you love your parents. Do you think I would have acted differently in your place?”

Draco didn’t reply, but Harry knew that he was thinking about Harry’s words and for now that was enough. His chin rested on Draco’s shoulder when he spoke again.

“We don’t have to talk about this now, if you don’t want to. Do you want to look at the other maps?”

Draco nodded until Harry’s words caught up to him and lurched upward but held back by Harry’s arms around his waist.

“Do you mean there are more?”

“Yes, here, look.”

Draco perused the map Harry had unrolled in his lap. The structure on the page was circular and seemed to wind and twist upwards, like the inside of a conch. It looked a bit like the rune that Draco had manipulated the previous day, when he had revealed the staircase.

“Is it another vortex?”

“No, Harry, this is something else. I think this is a map of the lighthouse, of what’s underneath the lighthouse.”

Harry was in shock, how was this possible?

“Do you have any idea where the entrance is?”

“Let me get my wand,” Draco said and got up.

Harry waited for him to come back and watched him pace the room while looking at the map in concentration. He was mumbling something under his breath and walked from one wall to the other in a straight line, before taking a sudden step to the right and walking to a different spot near the wall.

“I think we’ll have to move the furniture out of the way.”

“No problem.”

Harry pulled out his wand and shrunk everything around them and then placed a tiny sofa beside a tiny armchair on the kitchen counter. When he came back, Draco had rolled up the carpet and was pressing his left ear against the wooden floor. He knocked against the planks in a rhythm that was oddly familiar to Harry. He had heard it somewhere before.

“Harry, I think the entrance is right underneath our feet.”

*

Harry felt like he was drifting up from the bottom of a deep ocean. He was back in his therapist’s office. She sat beside him and smiled, already removing her wand from his temple from where she had woken him.

“I think that’s enough for today, Mr Potter.”

“But I feel like we’re close to something big, maybe the big something we’ve been looking for.”

“I’m sorry Mr Potter, as much as I would like to continue this, I have other obligations at this point.”

“What could you possibly have to do?” Harry regretted his words as soon as they had left his mouth. He immediately went on before his therapist could speak. “I apologise, that was completely out of line. I shouldn’t have said that just because I’m frustrated.”

His therapist’s smile seemed strained and Harry felt even worse when she went on to say, “If you must know, my little girl is sick and I need to go home to take care of her.”

Harry felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, getting up from the chair and shaking his therapist’s hand. “I hope she feels better soon. Will you be free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, Mr Potter. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~~

It was dark by the time Harry got home. With most of his memories of the last three months returned, he almost expected Draco to be waiting for him, but of course he wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there the day before or any day before that; not even on the day Harry had suddenly awoken in his bed in Grimmauld Place with no idea that a little over three months had passed during, what to him, had only been a single night.

Preparing dinner was a lonely affair and Harry wished he knew where Draco was right now. With his memories, his feelings had returned and not having Draco around caused an almost physical ache in his chest. Harry realised that he didn’t even know where Draco’s office in London was located, let alone where he lived.

The dinner tasted bland and Harry didn’t even remember finishing it, but was glad that his stomach was full and his plate empty. It meant one less chore. One less chore until he could go back and find out what had happened to make him forget.

It took a long time for Harry to fall asleep. I wasn’t like it had been for the last few days, when he didn’t know that anything or rather anyone was missing. Now Harry found himself turning over, seeking Draco’s warmth and finding nothing but cold sheets and loneliness in its stead.

He would have to go and find Draco once he had figured out what happened. Even if Draco was somehow involved in whatever made Harry lose his memories, there had to be an explanation. He desperately wanted to believe that Draco staying away and not contacting him wasn’t an admission of guilt on his part.

But what if the reason for Draco staying away was because he couldn’t remember anything either? Harry felt an overwhelming sense of loss at the thought of his memories being the only ones left of the time they had shared. What if it was too late? The thing between Draco and himself was something special, something that made him feel whole and truer to himself than he had ever felt before. Giving that up would be nigh impossible.

When Harry eventually fell asleep, his dreams were plagued with images of Draco trying desperately to get to him, but being pulled away at the last minute, with Harry being petrified, unable to do anything. The betrayal on Draco’s face, when Harry wouldn’t come to his rescue, broke Harry’s heart.

~~

Harry awoke in complete darkness. When he tried to get up to find out where he was, he realised that he was strapped to a cold wet slab of stone. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. His heart was beating so loud that it took an effort to listen for anything else. Harry could hear water dripping, the echoes painting a vast cavern in front of his mind’s eye. The air was stale and smelled of fish and decay.

Ropes were tied to his wrist and ankles, across his chest, his neck and his thighs. Whenever Harry struggled to try and get free, they only seemed to grow tighter. He lost count of how many times he passed out in the darkness because the rope around his neck had tightened so much he couldn’t breathe. Every time he woke, the ropes would have grown slack, bringing with them a fierce spark of hope that would get extinguished as attempt after attempt to escape inevitably failed.

He didn’t know how long it would be until rescue came or if anyone even knew he was missing. The last thing he remembered was waking up on his sofa with Draco draped across him in the warm afternoon light, talking excitedly about something. The memory was fuzzy and when Harry tried to picture it more clearly, it slowly began to drain away, leaving him with an intense sense of loss. Grief overwhelmed him and he couldn’t hold back the sobs when he realised he was utterly alone.

Time passed and the dripping sound of the water mocked his parched lips and throat from afar. Originally, he had tried to count to find out how long he was here, only guessing at the periods he had spent unconscious. Harry had been hungry at some point, but even that feeling had long since passed.

Suddenly there was a light in the dark. He closed his eyes at its brightness, but he could hear voices, Ron and Hermione were here, they had come to save him from the darkness. Harry forced his eyes open again, but there was only darkness around him. He could still hear their voices, wavering in and out of hearing range, like a radio that didn’t quite manage to catch the right frequency.

He called for them, but they never came, their voice eventually moving past his range of hearing. Harry began to struggle again and this time he could feel the ropes pulling tighter, they slid across his skin like wet snakes. That was when he realised what was tying him to the table wasn’t rope, it was something else, something alive. 

This time, like all the others, Harry struggled in vain. When Harry realised that he wouldn’t be able to free himself and that his magic didn’t seem to work, he lost it. Knowing that he was being held here by some kind of creature that was attached to him and sliding across his skin, was unbearable. His screams echoed around the vast space until his voice grew hoarse. 

The next time Harry awoke, he tried to tap into his magic again to summon anything, maybe just a small spot of light so he could see and not just imagine what was holding him prisoner. But just when he thought he had enough, he could feel his magic snuff out like a candle in a storm.

The creature that was attached to him squirmed and for a moment Harry thought that he had somehow managed to hurt the creature with his magic, but when the tentacles tightened around him again, he knew it was a vain hope. Exhaustion crashed over him when he tried again. His heart was beating slow and hard in his chest and he was struggling for breath. Inside his head he could suddenly hear a sigh that sounded smug and satisfied.

Finally, Harry realised what the creature was doing. It was feeding off him, of his life force and his memories. That was why he couldn’t use magic, because there was nothing left to draw from. With a terrifying finality, Harry understood that he was going to die here. Alone and in the darkness without anyone ever knowing what happened to him. 

Draco! Draco would be looking for him. But what if he was too late or worse, what if the creature caught him as well? What if it already had?

“Draco.” Harry’s voice sounded scared and broken even to his own ears.

~~

He woke in the dark. He didn’t know where he was or why or as it turned out who he was. All he knew was that he was tired, so very tired. There was something he was supposed to remember. It felt like there was something precious that he had lost, but he couldn’t remember what it was, which made the loss even harder to bear.

His tears were quiet and there was no one to see them. He only wished for death, unable to remember anything but the cold and wet darkness and the feeling of being bound without a chance of escape.

“Shit, Harry!”

He startled. There was a voice. Was it real? He didn’t know. Nothing was real. He felt like he was floating away, losing all sense of self, even the feeling of the cold stone slab was gone. Maybe this was what death felt like? If so, he welcomed it, there was nothing left for him, not even himself.

“Get out of my way! Let me see him. Right now!”

The voice seemed agitated, agitated enough to be of interest. He opened his eyes to look, expecting to see nothing but darkness. But there was a pale milky shimmer of light over everything now. He could see shapes moving back and forth and here and there were bright flashes of colour. He didn’t understand what it meant.

A loud squealing noise rose from just beside his head and he could feel whatever had a hold on him slackening and sliding to the floor.

“I said, get out of my way! I don’t care what you are, or why you took him. He’s not yours. I’m warning you, I know _exactly_ what magic does to you and I will not hesitate again.”

The slapping sound of footsteps moved further and further away from him. Then suddenly there were hands on him, hands that were gentle and reassuring, still he shrank away.

“No,” he managed to force out and pressed himself firmly back against the stone. It was all he knew, the only thing outside of himself that he was sure was real. He wished he could become one with the stone and hide away.

“Harry, please.” The voice broke. It sounded so sad it made his heart ache, but he didn’t understand why. “Come with me, we have to go.”

Go where, he wanted to ask, but his voice refused to obey him.

“Harry, look at me.”

He turned his face toward the voice, but there was nothing but vague shapes again, like shadows moving on the wall. The hands returned to his shoulders, lifting him up and crushing him against another body. He didn’t understand, but whatever was happening gave the voice comfort, so he let it happen.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you. I didn’t know they were going to take you here.”

The voice held him tighter.

“Don’t be sad,” he managed after several attempts, which only made the voice cling to him more tightly.

“I thought I’d lost you,” the voice said, sounding anguished.

*

He sat up with a start. He was in his own bed, the soft morning light streaming in through the curtains he had forgotten to close the night before. The remnants of the dream clung to him like spider webs and it took a moment before he could remember. He was Harry and he was in his own bed at 12 Grimmauld Place, where he was supposed to be.

Harry pushed the soaked through sheets off the bed and grabbed his favourite jumper, pulling it over his head and hugged himself tight. It still smelled faintly of Draco’s cologne and it only made Harry miss him more.

His heart was still racing by the time Harry was slowly climbing down the stairs to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. The task seemed almost impossible with how much his hands were shaking. In the end, Harry took his wand and simply set things in motion. While the ritual of making tea usually calmed him down, today was not that day.

Sitting in his living room, Harry tried to come up with a plan of what to do next. The dream hadn’t been a dream, but a memory. The voice had sounded familiar, even though Harry didn’t remember the face belonging to it. Even now trying to remember the voice made it difficult to place, because as he did, Harry was losing pieces of himself, feeling his memories drift away, like wisps of smoke.

He was scared. What if the memory itself would overpower him and he would forget everything again. Harry remembered the acute loneliness he had felt, when he had lost his sense of self, the total isolation even now crushing his heart. Draco was the last person he remembered speaking to before the dream had begun. Maybe he knew what had happened and how Harry had come back to Grimmauld Place.

There was nothing to it. He had to speak with Draco.

*

“Master is not here.”

“Listen, what’s your name?”

“This house elf will not be tricked into revealing its name by your clumsy attempts.”

“Ok, I’m sorry. Can I please speak to your master?”

“No, he is not here.”

“For fuck’s sake, I can hear him in the next room, just go and fetch him, please.

“No, he’s not here, Mr Potter, you must leave now.”

“Right, I’ve had, it, I’m coming through.”

Harry pushed forward using an illegal spell he learned for his work as an Unspeakable and stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor.

“No, you must leave now.” The house elf agitatedly tried to push Harry back into the flames, completely missing that his cloak and hair almost caught fire.

“Stop it,” Harry said, side stepping the elf and getting out of danger as quickly as possible.

“Mr Potter, you must leave. Master, Mr Potter won’t leave.” The elf shut its mouth, its eyes growing large in horror, as it realised what it had revealed. “You tricked me! I will go iron my ears immediately, I betrayed Master.”

“No, Minnie, it’s fine, you’re forbidden from ironing your ears or punishing yourself in any other way. You’ve served your master well, thank you.”

Draco didn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes, even after he had spoken to his house elf. It was almost as if he was afraid of what Harry would say.

Harry swallowed. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“Do I?” Draco sneered, but the expression looked fake on his face, like a mask he wanted to hide behind. Harry blamed himself for never noticing that that was all it was and had been, a mask and nothing more.

“Yes, I think you do.”

Draco looked even more crestfallen; with a sigh, he turned around and beckoned Harry to follow him.

“Very well then. Minnie could you serve us some tea in the small drawing room, please?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You probably think it’s strange that I still have house elves, don’t you Potter. Especially with that Granger friend of yours.”

Harry took hold of Draco’s hand and spun him around. “Don’t Potter me, Draco, not after-,” he had to collect himself for a moment and then looked straight into Draco’s eyes,” not after everything that happened. Please don’t pretend things haven’t changed.”

Draco’s shoulders sagged, he suddenly seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“You remember then?”

They didn’t have to talk about what Harry remembered, they both knew. All pretences were behind them.

“Yes.”

“Do you regret it?” Draco’s voice sounded small and vulnerable, nothing like what the Draco Harry had got to know had sounded like. He drew Draco closer by the wrist he was still holding onto and enfolded him in a hug.

Draco was as stiff as a board, before he buried his face against Harry’s shoulder and melted against his chest and let his arms sneak around Harry’s waist. Overcome with affection, Harry pressed a quick kiss to the crown of Draco’s hair, who hugged him even tighter.

“No, not a singled moment. I only wish I had been able to remember before today.”

“Really, why?”

“Really. Because I wouldn’t have had to sleep alone and I would have been able to do this a lot and a lot sooner.”

Harry cupped Draco’s face and kissed him gently, unhurriedly, before hugging him close again. He gently untangled himself from Draco, but intertwined their fingers to keep the connection between them alive.

“Now, I heard there was tea and maybe even biscuits?”

Draco nodded and led the way to a small drawing room. The floor to ceiling windows opened onto a terrace that led even further to the vast Manor gardens. Harry paused by the window to take in the view.

“The Manor is beautiful,” he said. The darkness that had always weighed down the place after the war had all but gone, leaving only a slight mysterious air to the place, that only made it seem more magical and removed from this world.

Still, Draco seemed to understand what he meant, he indicated for Harry to take a seat in an armchair, while he himself chose an old-fashioned divan. Harry ignored the gesture and sat beside Draco, smiling when Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at him. No matter what Draco would reveal to him, they had been apart for long enough and Harry wanted him as close as possible.

Draco handed him a cup of tea with a small buttery biscuit on the saucer.

“Help yourself to anything you might like,” he said, the expression on his face utterly surprised when Harry leant in to sneak a quick kiss.

Harry gave him a look, daring him to protest, but Draco only blushed and went on speaking after he had helped himself to his own cup of tea.

“I hope you brought a bit of time, this is quite a long story.”

“It’s alright, I’ve got nothing but time, I’m still on forced leave, if Hermione is to be believed.”

They talked until the sun went down. Afterwards they took a turn in the gardens, gazing up at the stars and looking at them in not quite the same way that they had, before either of them had visited the underground city. The night was mild, so Harry and Draco went back to the room, sitting by the open window and talking until the sun came up again.

Draco told him that after he had discovered the runes in the floor boards, they had found a hidden entrance that led to a series of tunnels and caves that obviously belonged to the city they had found and that they were most likely connected. They spent all day exploring down there before locking the entrance up again and going to sleep.

When Draco woke up the next morning, he was alone in the room. He looked for Harry inside the lighthouse but hadn’t found him. Draco had assumed Harry went down to the village to go to the shop, but when he took Harry’s Firebolt to follow him, the village had been deserted. And not just deserted. The houses looked as if they had been uninhabited for centuries. They were nothing more than decaying ruins.

At that, Draco had returned to the lighthouse and he tried to find Harry. In the end, he fell asleep from exhaustion and he spent the next two days looking for him everywhere. He even went back to the underground city, but found no sign that anything had been disturbed. Eventually, he went back to the nearest wizarding city to Floo for help.

The search and rescue operation had to be conducted in secret because of the Neo-Death-Eater movement on the rise and people still fearing what would happen if their saviour just disappeared.

It took the team almost two weeks to find the tunnels leading up from the ruined village directly into the lighthouse. It was then that Draco understood what must have happened. When everyone else had gone to bed, he snuck out and went back to the city. But this time, he took the entrance from the lighthouse. It took him two more days and he was close to giving up, when he found them.

In cave about the size of Atrium at the Ministry, all the villagers sat in a circle around a larger raised stone slab. On the ancient altar lay an immobile figure. Wrapped around it was a creature that seemed taken from someone’s nightmare. It had an elongated upward twisting body like a scorpion with eight spidery legs. It also had a birdlike beak and sharp claws and then there was a plethora of tentacles growing from what must be the creature’s chest. They were wrapped around the figure on the stone and it took Draco a moment to realise that figure was Harry.

Draco had seen a creature like that before. His research had indicated that whoever had built the ancient city had also come to earth to experiment on creatures. They had mixed traits and created creatures that as the legends went were close to immortal. Draco took a step back in disgust, ready to bolt. He couldn’t help it, even though he immediately felt bad for his reaction. His feet hit a pool of water and everyone’s faces turned to him at the sound of splashing.

They weren’t human. Harry had once described his recurring dream to him and that was exactly what Draco saw. Reptilian faces with huge eyes, slitted noses, above thing lips covering grey pointy teeth and bodies that had elongated arms with hands that ended in vicious claws.

Draco knew he would have to fight his way through them to get to the pedestal in the middle of the room, but for once in his life he didn’t care. Harry made a distressed sound as the tentacles drew tighter around him and Draco saw red. He rushed the villagers, firing spells left and right and never losing sight of Harry.

The creature wound itself even tighter around the stone slab and seemed to quiver with every new spell Draco fired into the crowd. Suddenly he understood. The creature was afraid of magic. Maybe that meant that magic would work to defeat it. 

Draco concentrated his fire on the creature. It curled itself around Harry and the pedestal. And for a moment, Draco thought he was too late, that the creature had taken Harry from him. In that moment, he had been so overwhelmed by grief and rage, he had been able to cast an Unforgivable curse. When Draco came back to himself, the creature had slid from the pedestal and was lying on its side with its legs folded together like a dead spider on a window sill.

The crowd around him finally seemed to remember he was still there and he had to force his way through them, threatening them until they all turned tail and ran. When he reached Harry, he was almost completely dehydrated and there was a milky-white film across his eyes. Draco brought Harry back to the surface with him where the others were waiting.

They made it just in time. The creature must have kept Harry hydrated for as long as it needed to drain his life force from his body. The memory loss, they said at St Mungo’s was a mere side effect.

For about two weeks, Harry had been in a coma and Draco had sat with him most days, until Hermione told him he should leave. She had said the scans indicated that Harry’s brain was healing itself but that whatever happened in the cave and in the weeks leading up to it would most likely be lost. If Harry saw Draco when he woke up, it might agitate him. His condition, she reasoned, was too delicate for that.

It had been like a slap to the face, but Draco had left believing that Harry’s friends would inform him when Harry woke up. In the end it was through _The Prophet_ that he found out about Harry waking up in the hospital and going home. Draco had told Harry that he had been too scared to seek Harry out, but that he had missed him every day.

“How did you get your memories back in the end?”

Harry laughed and pressed Draco against his side, resting his hand on Draco’s neck and playing with the soft hair there.

“I went to see a mind healer because I realised that there was something I didn’t remember and I wanted to know what happened.”

“Are you happy with the results?” Draco asked.

“Not really.”

“Why?” Draco looked crestfallen, when he asked.

“Because now I know how much time I’ve wasted. And I’m still worried that my memories will fade away again. Even now, when I think of the dream I had last night, the story you told me about my rescue, I begin to forget. It’s little things, like the colour of my mum’s hair, my dad’s name, stuff like that. It happens when I think about that time for too long. I’m scared I’ll forget you again.”

Harry lowered his eyes. He had just put his heart out there and while he didn’t know what else he could have done, waiting for Draco’s reaction made him feel incredibly vulnerable.

He realised he had gone too far, when Draco disentangled himself and got up. Harry was already resigned to his fate and thinking about what excuses he could make to leave and escape this unbearable situation, when Draco climbed into his lap. Draco took Harry’s arms and wrapped them around his own waist while he rested his wrists on Harry’s shoulders, playing with the hair at Harry’s nape.

Draco leaned in and pressed his lips gently against the corner of Harry’s mouth, then moved his lips along Harry’s cheek until he reached his ear.

“What do you say if we make some new memories for you to hold onto? As many and for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Yes,” was Harry’s breathless reply and then there was no more needs for words, at least for a little while.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or [on Livejournal](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/79707.html).


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